


From Here to Kingdom Come

by rivlee



Series: The Long Way Home [9]
Category: Spartacus Series (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-30
Updated: 2012-12-30
Packaged: 2017-11-22 22:11:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/614910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rivlee/pseuds/rivlee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is not how Nasir expected his war to end. Post-<i>Vengeance</i> alt. canon AU fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	From Here to Kingdom Come

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Steorie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Steorie/gifts), [gaygreekgladiator (ama)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ama/gifts), [brandedwithfire](https://archiveofourown.org/users/brandedwithfire/gifts), [amorekay](https://archiveofourown.org/users/amorekay/gifts), [Pameluke](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pameluke/gifts), [sandstone-dreams (youwontbeatme)](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=sandstone-dreams+%28youwontbeatme%29).



> This fic takes place directly before my Big Bang fic, _Memento Vivere_. Dedicated to all the wonderful ladies who have supported and helped me thus far with all the big bang work. You ladies are awesome and so very generous with your time.

**_71 BCE_ **

This battle was different from all the others; Nasir could feel it in the air. It felt off, wrong, as if the Fates were finally turning against them. The fighting had already seen his beloved horse, Nox, fall in defense of Nasir. They attacked with a cavalry and now, due to slaughter on the Romans’ part, they fought on foot, completely surrounded. It was a rush of movement and violence, finding friend at your back easily turned to foe between each breath. The confusion was a constant companion to the rebellion these days. They were down leaders, numbers, and supplies. One week they were trying to turn north for an escape; the next a return south for raids. Discipline had failed among the ranks. The respect for Castus and Donar was not as great as the respect that existed for the fallen Crixus and Gannicus. Even Agron was struggling to keep some of his kin in-line now that they numbered in the thousand. 

This day they fought a group of Crassus’ soldiers just outside Luciana. Nasir had already been separated from Saxa and Agron’s side once. He was desperately trying to get back to either one of them. Even he didn’t trust some of the newest members of their forces. The first cries of retreat came up and Nasir couldn’t discern which side was calling for it. It was then he heard it, Saxa’s murderous yell in infuriated German. Nasir ducked one sword and head-butted another Roman before he could get a clear view.

For a moment, just one single second, everything stopped. Nasir heard nothing, felt nothing, all he could see was Agron on his knees with an axe embedded in his left shoulder. Where were the fuckers supposed to be guarding their fucking general? Saxa was the closer of the two of them but Nasir was driven by rage. He didn’t know how he passed the distance without getting killed himself but he was there before the Roman fuck could behead Agron. He didn’t even think as he sliced the soldier’s throat. It was too quick and painless a death; Nasir would save his vengeance for a more opportune time. 

The haze broke as he heard Agron’s grumbles. All around him was the smell of blood, dirt, and death. There was the clanging of iron on iron and enraged shouts in the air. The movement of fights blurred on the edges of his vision as he focused on Agron. 

“Fuck the fucking gods,” Agron stuttered out. There was blood dripping out of his mouth. “I bit my fucking tongue.”

Nasir dropped beside him. “You worry about your tongue when there is an axe in your back?”

Agron grimaced through a smile. “You love my tongue.”

“Agron,” Nasir breathed. He pressed their foreheads together and willed his heart to calm its beating.

Saxa stumbled down next to them, blood dripping from her arms.

“Yours?” Nasir asked.

Saxa shook her head. “Others. Can you stand?” she asked Agron.

Nasir stared at her. “You wish him to walk?”

“It is better if we transport him with axe still in wound,” Saxa said. “You know that Nasir.”

The unspoken ghost of Mira lingered about them. 

“Together,” Saxa said, “like always.”

Agron hissed out his breath and a mixture of curses. Nasir could feel him shaking under his hands, or maybe it was Nasir’s own body reacting to the stress of it all. He knew this was always a possibility, always a risk of their life, but seeing it happen, seeing Agron down on his knees and wounded, he was never prepared for the reality of it all. 

He did not know how many others gathered around, protecting them as they made their way through the battle lines and back to the camp, but there was a wall of them by the time they stopped. Agron was sweating, his breathing labored, and he only remained on his feet through the will of Nasir and Saxa. Donar stood behind them ensuring the axe didn’t move too much. 

Naevia was the first to greet them with Arieh clutched to her chest. “He lives?” she asked.

“His heart still beats,” Nasir said. 

“Then let us fix him,” she declared.

Inside was a whirl of healers, both trained and amateurs, with the wounded and dead over the ground. The covering of the tent gave little protection to the wind coming off the coast. They maneuvered Agron to a cleared spot and waited for a medicus. Nasir refused to move from Agron’s side. If his very presence kept Agron tied in this world, he would not leave even if Spartacus ordered it. 

“Clearly it did not go well,” Naevia said. She looked grim and guilty; she should feel neither. “Perhaps if I was out there as well, it would have changed.”

“You are where you must be,” Nasir said. He smiled at Arieh. “You would not want us to raise the babe. His first sentence would be a curse against the gods.”

Naevia’s smile was small. Joy was a stranger to her in these months since Crixus’ death. 

“How are you?” she asked. 

Nasir did not wish to offend Naevia, to pour salt in open wounds, but he could not remain so stoic when he was grasping to stay still and sane. “I am terrified,” he admitted. 

She nodded. “He still breathes; hold on to that.”

“I will,” he promised.

Naevia stood. “I will order the medicus to you.”

Nasir exchanged a worried glance with Donar and Saxa. He was starting to feel the burden of Agron’s weight, though he feared to shift or cause any movement.

“Lugo? Castus?” he asked.

Donar shook his head. “I came to your side as soon as I heard Saxa’s yell. Camilla and Castus were with him last I saw.”

A medicus came in with one of the assistants, Greeks by their accents, though Nasir didn’t recognize them. That was the problem with such large numbers; even Nasir did not recall the names or faces of recent members. There could be so many traitors among them and no one able to tell. 

“Why such a fuss over one wound, it’s not even fatal from the looks of it,” the medicus said.

Saxa and Donar were on him before Nasir could stand; Saxa to attack, Donar to hold her back. 

“Do you know who you speak of with such disrespect,” Nasir growled. “That is Agron, second only to Spartacus, and your leader.”

The medicus shrugged. “I know some of the names and not all the faces. I only see those with injuries.” He studied Agron’s back. “The bones of his body have protected him. It seems the axe is not too deeply embedded. He still breathes, of course. Infection will be you biggest worry.” He pointed to Donar. “Hold his shoulders, please.”

“Why?” Donar asked.

“I would not cause more harm when we remove the axe,” the medicus said.

Nasir shook his head at Donar. The medicus looked lacking in strength and he did not trust the man to even lift the weapon.

“You hold the shoulders,” Donar said. “I know well how to handle an axe.”

The medicus and his assistant exchanged a bored look but took their places.

Nasir kissed Agron’s warm cheek and breathed in his scent. He gripped Agron’s side when a harsh breath stuttered out.

“Still alive?” Agron asked.

Nasir laughed softly. “Does your Afterlife involve the stench of wounded bodies?”

Agron’s fingers held Nasir’s own in a loose grip. “Depends on who was fighting. We do have a goat that’s milked for wine.”

“I should have expected such,” Nasir said. He held Agron tight as his body lurched forward from the force of Donar pulling the axe out. “Stay with me,” he ordered.

Agron was mumbling curses in a mixture of his tongue and Latin but he stopped long enough to meet Nasir’s eyes. There was a promise there. They would see each other through this and to whatever end it brought.

*********************

Nasir sat beside Agron in their tent. His eyes were fixed to the harshly stitched wound on Agron’s back. It seemed wrong to have him sleep on their red cloth, the very color of new blood, but it was a beloved piece of their bedding that had accompanied them for this half-year. 

“He sleeps?” Spartacus asked.

Nasir nodded. “Not well; he abhors sleeping on his stomach, but Kore passed us a powder to force rest upon him.”

Spartacus grinned, face covered in blood and so tired under all the grime. “She is so very treacherous.”

“And we love her for it,” Nasir agreed. He studied Spartacus. “You are well?”

“Lugo saw me to safety,” he said. He sat beside Nasir. “Agron could have met his death this day and I would not have known until his pyre was prepared.”

“Our numbers are vast,” Nasir said.

“I am surrounded by strangers and forgetting my friends with all these duties. Sibyl was the one to tell me and she found out hours after the incident.” He reached forward and smoothed down Agron’s hair. “Word has returned to me from the Cilicians. They agreed to the terms of our contract. We will move to Regium in a fortnight. I wish to send Agron, Naevia, and Arieh ahead of the camp. I want them on a ship and far out at sea before any others.”

“Agron will not agree,” Nasir said.

Spartacus laughed. “No, he will not. You must convince him, knock him out if required. He is too valuable to lose to stupid warrior pride. I trust him more than any other to see Naevia and Arieh to freedom. It is the very least I can do for us all.”

“You wish us to abandon you?”

Spartacus shook his head. “I wish you to live. Agron will not have a chance for proper recovery on a battlefield. Besides which, it would be best if we had a headquarters pre-established on one of the ships. I am sending you with most of our coin, a portion of our grain and jerky, and a case of arms.”

“Spartacus, if things turn worse, if you are cut-off between when we leave and when you arrive, you condemn the others to hunger or death,” Nasir argued. “You cannot ask this of us.”

“I will order it if I must. Agron and Naevia will not leave if I do not require this and there are others I would send with you. You must go, for I trust you to watch over the rest. Donar, Lydon, and Sigihild shall be your protection. Sending Donar means I must send Seti and Thais for they will obey no other than those gathered on that ship. Camilla will join you to help mind the children and stitch up Agron when he pulls open that wound again.”

“He will do so before the sun rises on the next morn,” Nasir admitted. 

Spartacus gripped Nasir’s shoulder. “The Fates may have finally turned against us for good, but I will see those I love to a better end. There are others I would send with you if I could spare them.”

Nasir patted Spartacus hand and slipped out his hold. He took a new place on Agron’s other side, watching the rise and fall of his back. “It would look suspicious if you sent too many. Saxa and Lugo must stay to lead the Germans with Agron and Donar gone. Castus is a leader and cannot abandon you when you are down a general. Kore and Sibyl must stay in place of Naevia and Camilla. You already think the Cilicians will betray us.”

Spartacus shrugged. “I have never found pirates to be the most trustworthy folk. I have been in correspondence with both their captain and a helmsman of the group. I trust the helmsman more and he is the one you must contact when you reach Regium. His is called Kyros and will be easy to find as he wears the Eye of Horus in the skin of his face.”

“That is quite the identifying mark,” Nasir said.

“I doubt the pirates go for stealth.” Spartacus grew quiet and serious. “Nasir, I will require your aid to see this to its end.”

“Yes, you will,” Nasir agreed. “I have no desire to abandon you and those I love to the protection of others and yet, part of me, the completely selfish part of me, knows it is what must be done if I do not wish to see Agron dead. What kind of man does that make me, Spartacus?”

“An honest one,” Spartacus answered. “I started a whole rebellion out of what was done to me, my wife, and Varro. Crixus joined us for Naevia. Agron only supported my cause to see Duro to freedom. I took a chance, ignoring that if failed, my act would’ve cost the life of every slave in that ludus. I now ask you to take a chance to the seek reward we all deserve. If we cannot meet you on the sea, you run, Nasir. You take that ship and you get as far away from Rome as required even if you must take the helmsman hostage. Do you understand my orders?”

Nasir nodded. “Agron will not let us leave without you.”

Spartacus stood and walked over to him. “Then you act as if we never had this conversation. In that moment use whatever means necessary to turn him from such thoughts. I am sorry to ask you to bear this burden, to keep this from him, but there is no other way. There is no other choice.”

“There is always a choice,” Nasir said. 

Spartacus arm shook as he held a hand out to Nasir. “Not this time,” he choked out. 

Nasir took his hand and shook it in agreement. No more words passed between them as Spartacus left their tent. Nasir turned back to Agron and kissed the smooth skin of his right shoulder. 

He feared for their future. At the very least, whatever was to come of it, at least they would be together.


End file.
